The Poisoner And The Heiress
by The Duelist's Heiress
Summary: Part of my Powers AU. Very OC Heavy. - "A blaring two-second beep blasts through the headset. She quickly closes the file and slides it in the open compartment under the desk. Again, the sound blares through the earpieces. She breathes deeply and leans her head back. This only happens when things don't go according to plan..." - Title and summary may change
1. Chapter One

**DH AN: **Ok all I'm gonna say is this started out as a funny oneshot, but after a few… additions, it got more complex really fast. I'm guessing about five to ten chapters total. Big thank you to **Gweniveve Skyes** for letting me play with two of her Original Characters. Also, this is dreadfully OC centric/ OC heavy, sorry if that ain't your cup of tea… Anyway without further ado, enjoy the first Chapter of **The Poisoner And The Heiress. **Title may change, I don't know if I quite feel this one.

**Timeline: **Five Months after **Healing Presence **but before **Madness' Echoes **(Oneshot #38)

* * *

**The Poisoner And The Heiress**

**Chapter One **

Arlomhe Sharti fiddles with the cord on the headset idly. Her eyes are focused on the folder in front of her, its contents spread across the desk surface. A file that was Mirah Phoenix's bizarre prescience at work. She'd rifled through its contents more times than she could recall within the span of three months. A file on the Romanian assassin Tshilaba. The Poisoner.

The new addition's presence had brought major shifts in the organization. With Bryn Harkin out of the organization through a rather rare merciful release for the sake of his now motherless sister and Sahin already four months gone to his own affairs, there had been no one to take up the communications unit. She folds her hands to block the picture of a poison ring. Her request to head the unit was twofold and she was certain he knew the second, less obvious reason.

She was on toxic thin ice. Her rank had been stripped from her once already after an incident with The Poisoner. Once is a mistake, twice a threat, she didn't want to consider what a third infraction would bring. The image of their fingers brushing over the stone dueling table burned behind her eyelids. That hurt more than any consequence of a stripping of rank.

Her new position earned more by begging than suited her tastes, effectively kept her out of sight of her employer's old acquaintance and out of earshot of the clear indications of intimacy between the two. The only good thing about this... Arrangement as it were was that she didn't have to set foot on the antiquated sailing vessel she privately dubbed _The Death Trap_.

A blaring two-second beep blasts through the headset. She quickly closes the file and slides it in the open compartment under the desk. Again, the sound blares through the earpieces. She breathes deeply and leans her head back. This only happens when things don't go according to plan...

She twists the volume knob two clicks. Enough to hear, but not enough for her to go deaf from The R.H.'s ire.

"That swashbuckling. Meddler. Benjamin Navin." She hears a slight chattering of his teeth and a prominent squelchy noise of wet shoes as he paces. "Commandeered my ship."

"When you act like Pirates of Duel Monsters, you expect something different?"

"You're not helping, Sharti." She hears the wet almost sloshy sound of a halt. "I would never have thought him capable of operating that much rigging." He pauses and holds back a frustrated word, most likely a curse, as his weight shifts with another squelch. "Or get it moving so fast. I'm starting to doubt the rumors he's actually retired."

"Says he who never takes time off."

"Not. Helping." The sound of wet shoes is becoming so frequent that she can't contain her laughter entirely. Air slides past her teeth in staccato bursts. "What is at all laughable in this?"

"You didn't surrender peacefully did you?"

"After the restoration costs I put into it? I'm no fool."

"Do you include that gaudy paint job and those rather silly embroidered sails as part of said 'restoration costs?" She leans a bit to her right. "I'm surprised that you weren't intercepted sooner. The thing's a giant target!"

"Humph"

"Y'know you really should be thankful he simply threw you overboard." She breaks out in a bout of laughter.

"He cheated." Again the sound of soaked through shoes.

"Swashbuckling, fit, gutsy, certainly capable" She fights back another round of giggles. "Who looks like he could probably kill eighteen different ways with a paper clip."

"No." His tone shifts and she straightens. "No." His breaths hitch "He's sinking it?!" She tenses as she hears the light sneaking footsteps of The Poisoner.

Her fists clench in rage at Tshilaba's gall as she hears a last squelchy weight shift before the phone snaps shut and the call ends. It's wishful thinking to want the woman to face repercussions for doing that.

The first humor in months snatched from her in a matter of seconds. She moves to angrily dial back to give them both what for... What does she have to lose at this point?

Until hands pull her roughly from the chair and the headset slides from her ears. "You need a change in scenery." She sees Raji Rejorahl the kitchen hand through the mirror. Concern is etched into her face.

"I arranged to have my meals delivered here..." Arlomhe doesn't miss Raji's attempt to soothe her with a calm glance.

"It'll only make you fret over things more." Raji states carefully as she slowly spins the swiveling chair one-hundred eighty degrees "You need to talk to someone." Her own expression sours. "I don't quite like the effect this Tshilaba woman is having on you."

"Don't say her name." Arlomhe sighs as she realizes she proved Raji's point. Perhaps a scenery change is in order. As is a good hot meal. She and Raji enter the kitchen. Steam rises from a filled soup bowl and a hunk of warm dark brown bread therein.

"You can't avoid this forever." She turns her attention to the chair occupied by a brunet male with concerned brown eyes.

"I thought you were caring for your sister." She reveals her facade to another for the first time in three months, a sob lining her voice. "I never thought I'd be this happy to see you."

"I got a call." Bryn nods over to Raji. "You need to vent."

"What about your sister?"

"Slowly recovering. She will be fine on her own for a few days." Bryn sighs loosely as he draws circles on the table with his finger. "And around here?" He quickly amends "within reason of course."

"I've been lousy. A bit off. Managed to get stripped of rank."

"What did you do?"

"Catching your employer in a bit of a tryst tends to have repercussions like that." She stuffs her hands into her lap.

"But you're more of a silent observer. Boy... Must have really been something for you to ah... Reveal yourself."

"I slammed my fist against the hollow part of the wall." She squashes the bread into the bowl, refusing to speak of what caused her outburst. "Should have slammed the stupid Wall-Switch instead. I wouldn't have been possessed by my fear."

"Your anger wouldn't have helped either." His frank tone shifts to bewilderment. "Couldn't ya... Dare I say persuade him to... Well...break it off with her?"

"I've never seen him so... Content." She sops up the soup and pops the soaked bread into her mouth, chews and swallows. "Plus, I don't think I'd feel comfortable asking that when his...lover" Disdain lines the word, "specializes in poison-related assassinations."

"Is that why you tread lightly on this subject?" His voice drops to a whisper. "For your father's safety?"

"She doesn't know and I'd rather keep it that way." The girl presses her hands into her lap. "And it's more for my safety." Arlomhe places the dishes into the sink and braces herself on the edge. "I don't exactly have his protection anymore."

"You're miserable!" Bryn slams his fist against the table. "Why let yourself suffer?"

"It's complicated."

"Is it about your mother?" Raji breaks her silence. "Why you're not exactly shall we say amicable?"

The remark stuns both of the table's occupants. Arlomhe steps toward Raji with slow and careful paces. "I think you just pinpointed it for me."

"Mr. Harkin..." Raji preambles softly, briefly bringing images of a mother bear to Arlomhe's mind. "This isn't a matter you need be privy to. If you would occupy yourself elsewhere."

He sweeps his hands in a grandiose bow. "As you wish," He flashes a small grin and saunters off to the communications room.

Opening her mouth to protest, Arlomhe is eased out of the idea when Raji's gentle hands rest on her shoulders. "He's not one to do anything rash. But you already know that."

"But-"

"No buts." Raji steps around Arlomhe and takes a seat at the table across from the now empty soup bowl. "I need something from you anyway."

"What could you possibly need from me; I'm in a sorry state right now remember?"

"Use those fists that got you caught to help me knead this honeyed bread dough." Raji points to the mound of dough. "And as for the so called sorry state, it's better than being stranded with no boat."

"How do you know about that?"

"The tall man whose name I can never remember who runs my grocery errands called. It's what prompted me to come get you before you did something you might regret." She laces her fingers.

"Explains the perfect timing."

"It was his idea to get Mr. Harkin in for a visit as well. Seeing as the master of the house and his mistress" The feminine title passes Raji's lips with undertones of disdain."were to have a date tonight."

"I doubt that part of the schedule changed." Arlomhe steps over to the counter and digs her fists into the dough and steadily kneads it. "I should be happy."She states after a few moments. "But... In my almost fifteen years, it's been as if he were still married, that my mother had a benevolent hold on his heart and was nurturing it for someone new to eventually guard and care for."

Arlomhe catches sight of her reflection in one of the silver trays that lean against the counter's wall. It's not an expression she would want directed at her. "But now... That it's happening, I don't know how to feel."

"Ms. Sharti... You've ripped the dough in two."

Arlomhe sees that her hands are shaking as they hide a mound of the dough each. "Sorry Raji."

"Probably works out better this way... I can send a loaf with Mr. Harkin when he leaves." She puts the dough in a bread pan, drizzles a generous amount of honey over the top to give it the characteristic warm glaze. Arlomhe watches as Raji places the bread pans in the oven and her demeanor shifts. "There's something you should see."

Arlomhe had the weirdest feeling when those five words were strung together. Though it wasn't quite like The R.H.'s reaction to the word "subtleties". It was the implication that either wonder or horror awaited her.

Raji unlocks the door and permits Arlomhe entrance. The room for the most part is like any other, only it's walls are tinted faintly with varying colors at certain spots. The corners of the wall and ceiling are blue, the door frames a faint rust red, but perhaps the most impressing and least faded of any of the color splotched throughout the room was the wall opposite the long side of the bed.

"Did you paint the tree?"

"No. My good friend did." She gestures over to a rocking char and a cradle in the corner of the room.

"A nursery?"

Raji smiles somewhat sadly. "I never had the heart to leave your mother's work with no one to appreciate it."

"Raji..."

"Don't apologize. Please. It's... Not what Filiron would want."

"But... I can't do nothing..."

"Then let a woman entertain dear cherished memories and don't hesitate to offer new ones."

"Why do I feel so emotional about this?"

Raji sits on the floor by the bed with her legs crossed. "It returns to what you said of your mother's hold on him as nurturing." She motions for Arlomhe to mirror her position. "His heart isn't being nurtured. It's his ego that benefits. The Poisoner and The R.H.-even the monikers which precede them and the reputations therein fit each other a little too nicely.

They both possess methods that ensure absolute control... One over the body and the other over the mind. Factor in the negligible age gap and the fact that Tshillaba is monetarily essential to the foundation of the complex system you yourself have spent almost eight years immersed in and I think it explains where their ability to pull this arrangement off derives from." Raji slides down to grab a mahogany box from under the bed.

"That's like the one in the safe deposit box!"

Raji nods. "My wedding gift for your mother and her groom, a set of three." She cradles the box in her arms for a moment and sets it on her right. "Keepsake boxes are my family's trade. And fortunately, one of the family craftsmen didn't think me brooding and ungrateful." A grin creases her face. "He also still owed me a favor from covering for a broken box when he was learning."

"It is a very pretty box Raji."

"You may open it if you wish."

"But-"

"No buts, remember?" Raji's eyes were fixed on the painted tree. "It is your birthright. I was merely charged with keeping them until you need it most." A tear slides down her face as she reads words that seem to come from nowhere but memory. "When she doubts the love nurtured alongside the Seven-Year Oak."

"Raji..." Arlomhe feels herself shaking as she watches one of the strongest people she's known, break with a sobering silence.

"I should go check on the bread. The timer I set sounds like it's finished." She exits.

Arlomhe eyes the mahogany box. She almost reverently opens it with a slow careful tilt. She sees nothing but sheets of paper, folded like one would fold letters and in three piles that fill the box. That's not what catches her attention. The paper is all stained, granting it the appearance of a graceful aging.

His love letters to her mother. She would know the paper anywhere. She knew he kept all of Filiron Rylae's letters in a drawer in his office desk. She couldn't even entertain the idea that his love letters to her were even extant.

It wasn't surprising nor was it entirely predictable. The tapestry and her portrait still hung on the walls, the oasis was still in place. His odd ritual was kept every year on their wedding anniversary. And she herself was still here...

She tentatively unfolds a letter and even reading the word "Beloved" in her father's fine script begins to unravel that unyielding hurt that can never be abated when he speaks of her. There is no word for it... And she knew his ongoing fling with Tshillaba would never have what he lost. He lost that which has no word.

**Covenant, marriage, vow; all speak of promises. Harmony, coexistence, joining; all speak of two becoming one. Companion, lover, friend; all speak of a confidant. There is no way to earnestly describe you... Us... that resonates perfectly with the feelings of my heart of hearts.**

Arlomhe is jarred from her reading as she hears the cacophony of footsteps intermingled with the sound of a blaring two-beep pattern that has reached a crescendo.

Bryn comes rushing in catching his breath as he hangs onto the doorframe for dear life. "He's calling. I can't answer it and I forgot the damn thing gets louder the longer it goes unanswered."

Arlomhe quickly stuffs the note back into its box and covers the box with Raji's comforter. Throwing less than pleasant phrases under her breath, she bolts out of the door and for the communications room. Her lungs, legs and ears pound in synch as she reaches the headset, now blaring the two beep signal at the volume of two alarm clocks in an open space.

She sinks into the chair as she answers the call, grateful for the temporary silence. "Sharti." She hates how exhausted she sounds but at least she won't have to deal with Tshil-

"Hello Rankless One." Arlomhe clenches her teeth, inwardly begging her adrenaline to not increase her anger.

"Lady Tshilaba." Her voice is thick with disgust. Only grace and poise retrain her from lashing out in kind… or at least any further. She exhales. "I've entertained your use of that moniker long enough, you vixen. I answer only to 'Sharti' or whatever address our employer sees fit." She exhales again, this time it shakes. "What do you want, Poisoner?"

"All talk and no rank. Spectacularly falling from Master Marik's good graces suits you like a glove."

"What do you want Tshilaba?" Arlomhe asks again, this time through her teeth.

"Oh... I've already gotten what I want. You are aware of a favorite maxim of your employer, aren't you?" Sharti's fists clench right around the cord. "I'll take your silence as a 'no'." Tshilaba laughs; light, airy and most certainly at Arlomhe's expense. A mocking whisper is all it takes for Arlomhe to snap. "Whatever angers you, my dear colleague, controls you."

Arlomhe rises from her seat far too slowly, entire body taut with rage. Courtesy of the mirror, she watches Bryn step back toward the door and prevent Raji from entering. Her voice is calm and she fights to keep it that way. She spits out every syllable like a hot coal. "Consider yourself lucky that there are deserts, countries and seas worth of distance between us, you venomous bi-!"

"Use of that language only further proves Tshilaba's point Dear One." Arlomhe freezes. "Don't worry. She is well out of earshot."

She exhales in relief and sinks slowly back to her seat.

"You kept me waiting." She can imagine the somewhat sour look on his face. "Why?"

"I took a break for dinner, Sir."

"I thought you had arranged to have your meals delivered to your post, Sharti."

"Raji's orders. Can't refuse them."

"Perhaps it was far too rash of me to strip you of your rank." He drawls. "Although I have no doubt that you would honor her requests regardless of your position." He laughs under his breath. "It was indeed very prudent of her to spare you a costly mistake."

"Leave her alone!" Arlomhe trembles as she sees a plate and mug set on her right and Raji motion for her to surrender the headset. She obliges, pulling the mug of tea to her lips and savoring the reprieve offered by the first sip.

She hears Raji perform the rest of the call like it was second nature. "Your Head of Communications is taking a break. I'll happily assist you Sir." Raji's expression gives no indication of protest on the other end. Arlomhe supplies paper and pulls her favorite blue pen from her jacket's inner pocket and passes them to Raji. "Two hotel rooms at... Spell it for me please. Thank you. And all the information that can be gathered on a Benjamin Navin." A pause that leaves Raji with a look of discomfort as she jots something down and blacks it out, and scribes a corrected string of numbers. "Is that everything?" Another pause. "Glad to see your date wasn't hampered with the loss of your ship. Good night." The last two words carry tones of frustration. Raji slams the headset down in fury.

"How did you do that?" Bryn asks.

"Communication with him is an unspecified part of my job description. I'm privy to a bit more information than you'd think." Raji stares at the various devices humming around the room. "However, these systems aside from the headset elude me."

"Permission to relieve you of your post, Ms. Sharti?"

"Bryn... You aren't even supposed to be here."

"And your boss was supposed to be home tonight. How much cutting back has he done? You seem like you've been the only one in this room for weeks."

"It's not that he's cut back. It's going outward rather than more covert operations."

"So why didn't he send she who was essential to dismantling one of the largest thorns in his organization's side?"

"Because... He wasn't expecting it to be dismantled, but merely for it to continue on with a new head." She pauses. "Can we not talk about this anymore?"

Bryn obliges but his eyes burn with questions. He shoos Arlomhe from the chair, copies Raji's first two notes and passes the paper and pen back to her. Both females watch slightly slack jawed at the mastery he executes despite the four months' lack of exposure. He pulls out the file from the under desk compartment and passes it back to Arlomhe without glancing away from his task.

"Do you have a set of the R.H.'s office keys?" Raji asks as she passes the paper onto Arlomhe's folder and takes the plate and mug from Bryn's right side.

"I know where I can get one. He gave the set he'd entrusted to me to Tshilaba after..."

"Stripping you of your rank." Raji finishes as they walk through the hall toward the kitchen.

"In meeting."

"He usually handles things of that nature privately?"

Arlomhe nods stiffly. "I was humiliated. And that woman never leaves him. I had to beg for my current position in front of them both in his office." She braces herself in the table, hands outstretched. "And not only do I refuse to disclose the true connection between The R.H. and myself... I'm under strict orders not to."

"Is that an effort to keep Tshilaba from getting ideas or to keep you in line?"

"The terrifying part is that I don't know." Arlomhe finally sinks to the seat. "It's getting far more tempting to disregard the order. Right now I want nothing as badly as I want to see the color drain from her face when she realizes who she's talked down to for months."

_**"I would advise against that."**_ Arlomhe looks up to find Raji's eyes blank and soulless.

"I told you to leave her alone." Arlomhe's fists clench. "You leave her with dreadful headaches."

_**"I shall be more careful this time if it will cool your rage Dear One." **_

"What is it you want from me?"

_**"It is not what I want, rather think of it as something you want."**_ The laugh that follows sends chills up Arlomhe's spine. _**"Care for an opportunity to put someone in their place... And earn your former rank back in the process?"**_

"Elaborate."

_**"I'm certain you know of whom I speak."**_

"Tshilaba."

_**"Win and your rank will be restored and I'll strip Tshilaba of hers as I did to you."**_

"And if I lose?"

_**"Don't entertain that now. I'll figure something out before you are in my office tomorrow evening to agree to it."**_

"If I refuse?"

_**"That is not an option Sharti."**_

"Until tomorrow evening then." She watches for Raji's release. It comes when there is the sound of haggard breaths.

"Oh my aching head..." Arlomhe already has the aspirin and water on the table.

"You ok?" Arlomhe takes the water glass to refill it.

"I should be asking you the same thing. You look dreadful with that scowl on your face."

"My tea went cold." It wasn't exactly a lie, nor was it the entire truth. She wasn't going to be the one to tell Raji that their employer was the cause of her awful, infrequent and often unprompted headaches. Being forced to do something is bad enough… being The R.H.'s puppet… She shudders, banishing the thought. "Can I pop my bread slice in the oven to get it warm again?"

"Two minutes works well." Raji drains her second glass of water. "That's not what bothers you though."

"He made a proposition..." She watches Raji raise her brows. "If I win, my rank would be reinstated."

"And if you lose?"

"I get humiliated in front of The Poisoner again... That much is certain."

Raji furrows her brows. "So what are you going to do?"

"I suppose grab Tshilaba's file and see how she plays. That's... If the number string is correct." She glances over the numbers Raji had penned.

"But aren't those-?"

"They are... And the consequences are steep. Which is why I'm hesitant to go running off to do it. Feels like bait."

"Think carefully." Raji passes the warmed tea and bread to Arlomhe with a pensive expression that morphs into a grin. "But first, enjoy the food and drink I slaved over. I drizzled honey over your slice... That's always been how you like it."

"You have always been able to offer the best comfort food. And right now I really need it." For that moment, she relaxes; she can forget about the fact that The R.H. will still be sour over the loss of his boat. And for her own sake she can push thoughts of Tshilaba from her mind.

Far too soon her reprieve is over and the forgotten things resettle on her shoulders as she thanks Raji for the hospitality half by rote and half by genuine gratitude. She wanders the halls somewhat aimlessly. Until she stops at a door… and her stomach drops much to her distaste.

Inside that room is the only set of his office keys she might be able to access.

Arlomhe steps into Odion's room and sets the file on the shelf inside. Even if there is no way she will be caught, she still feels terrible about going through another's things. She finds the office keys in the second drawer of his desk. She almost takes them out of the drawer. But stops.

This is what he wants her to do. He's going back on his promise that he would never ask her to steal. She shuts the drawer decisively. She's better than that. In her current state, getting caught with a set of purloined keys is the last thing she needs anyway.

She grabs the file and exits. She finds Bryn in the communications room. Bryn turns in the chair. "Don't even try to get me out of this chair."

"Brynny I'm fine."

"You are not fine." He shows a soft smile. "Go get some rest upstairs. That bed has got to be more comfortable than the rock mattresses down here." He sighs. "I'll wake you up well before I leave and you'll get the credit for this." He holds up a partially started file.

"On the man who sank _The Death Trap_?" Arlomhe watches Bryn pale. "Oh relax would you? That's just what I call it." She laughs. "I'm sorta hoping we never catch him. I owe him. Always hated that stupid boat."

"The fact that you call it _The Death Trap_ doesn't convey that at all." Bryn laughs.

Arlomhe exhales loosely and steps out of the room and seeks out the Wall-Switch that grants access to the upper corridors. She fumbles for the switch; it has been a while since she was up there after all. The last thing she wanted was to be a witness to any more intimacy… as if the noises didn't leave enough of a sour note in her ears. She pulls a disgusted face.

After a moment, the tile sinks underneath her palm. She only waits until the wall slides halfway before entering the stairwell. She steps decisively on the second switch in the set.

The air rushes past her right as the wall slides to conceal the staircase and she sees light filter from the hallway above as the seven rows of motile tiles descend to create the other half of the stairs.

She travels automatically past the door to his bedroom that's no doubt locked. She rounds the upper corridor kitchen to wind up in another hallway. She enters the first door on the right.

She trips over the two steps and the file slips from her grasp. The papers slide all over the floor. Arlomhe stoops to pick a paper up and stops.

It's one she hasn't seen before. Or more precisely… easily overlooked. An article clipping on a lightning-born fire in a forest somewhere in Europe, where the Roma were common.

The occupants of a Roma camp were the only fatalities. "How horrible to lose family that way." Arlomhe murmurs as she runs her thumb across the aged newsprint. It somewhat explained why Tshilaba sought approval and assurance. Even if she wasn't too keen on the idea of family.

A rank-stripping like the one she had experienced would be an awful thing for Tshilaba, regardless of how irksome she was. There was a line to what Arlomhe would do; breaking a psyche was way beyond it and perhaps above her pay grade so to speak.

And perhaps this was a secret worth keeping. Anyone else would immediately set to work on constructing a burn deck centering around fire to try and get their opponent shaken, more ripe for a slip up. But as Arlomhe conceals the article in a drawer, she remembers that is not how she plays.

She is not that ruthless. Nor is she merciful. She dances a fine line between them, more akin to a sword's parry. Counter when necessary but strike when there's an opening, and don't be so focused on creating one.

Arlomhe drops her jacket from her shoulders and kicks off her boots before settling into the cool and pleasant bed sheets. However the serenity is short lived as she tosses and turns, tormented by images of fire.

* * *

**DH: **I want to thank **Gweniveve Skyes** again for letting me tickle my fancy with the initial idea of my favorite retired Mossad agent OC (that she was nice enough to let me borrow) sinking Marik's Pirate Ship o' Awesomeness. Yep, that's Aaron Levi from Gwen's awesome Fic **Atlantis Rising**

A matter of note on the context of this particular Fic, -and likely my entire AlternateUniverse/ Timeline- the only name he has is Benjamin Navin. Ask Gwen any questions, cause I'm just borrowing the guy. Seriously go read AR!

She also ah… popped the idea to use one of her other OCs from **Atlantis Rising** (again go read it), Tshilaba here too (I think I've finally spelt her name right after about three separate misspells. Hehe) and helped lengthened this oneshot into a ficlet. The pairing name for Marik X Tshilaba would be Absintheshipping- as per Gwen's established details. I'm not too big on the pairing but… it's very alluring in its odd way.

Please review!


	2. Chapter Two

**DH AN:** Well I'm here with a second chapter. Credit for a good deal of the flashback scene goes to Gwen, who has graciously allowed me to play a bit with a scene from Chapter Five of her Fan Fic** Atlantis Rising. **Enjoy **Chapter Two.**

**AN 2: **Again both Tshilaba and Benjamin Navin belong to **Gweniveve Skyes. **She's just letting me have some fun with them.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

She throws the blankets off and her feet hit the floor, soothed by the cool stone tiles. Yanking her slippers from under the bed, she wanders to the lower corridors once more.

She hated this sleepless thing. First her hallucination, then her other nightmare- she remembered it was a recurring thing like the hallucination dreams but for the life of her, the content of the nightmare was oddly unremembered.

But now four months later... It wasn't anything like that. It was now fire that raged through her dreams, consuming everything.

Arlomhe exhales as she steps up into the room with the missing eastern wall. It's not even her fear... It's Tshilaba's. So why is she awake and in the coldest part of the complex pulling her cloak around her like a security blanket?

She exhales hotly through her nose. This is a mistake. She sits on the small stone platform facing the door. She pulls out a drawer from underneath that table and grasps the painted earthenware deck box. Carefully sliding the lid from the box with her thumb, she lets it slide onto the stone table. She flips the box so that it easily surrenders its contents.

Wordlessly she slides her card-laden hand across, sweeping alternating rows of cards along the table's surface. Soon the entire deck is laid out before her. Her eyes scan across the cards, each one in their place. It's an odd habit of hers to have each one in a certain order when the cards were not in use. Everything in order.

Until her visual sweep reaches the middle row of the five. The entire row and the one below it are switched. Arlomhe pushes her hand forward to correct it but halts and her fingers tremble. The Poisoner had looked through her cards! The R.H. would return the cards to the proper order. As if that night could have gotten worse. She corrects the cards and places them back into the box and the box back in its drawer. She swiftly pushes the drawer shut with her palm, despite how the sound of slamming it shut always irritates her.

With a sigh, she swaps seats; she would much rather look at desert sand swirls in the night than look at the wood patterns in the door that she memorized years ago. Something catches her attention. A sliver of shadow shows along the southern wall. Her stomach churns. He knew…From the start. She shakes her head as the memory slams into her as if it were fresh, not weeks old.

_**Flashback**_

"How many times do I have to tell you it wasn't my fault, It was Ms. Phoenix's choice. Not mine."

"But you planted the seed of the idea."

"You remember that reconnaissance that masqueraded as business just as well as I do." Arlomhe clenched her fists. "Perhaps better than I do, seeing as the man baited you into showing your hand." She looked at the floor. "After dealing with a man like that for years, I can understand wanting to get away from tha- "

She halted as footsteps resounded through the atrium. She watched him, rather than acknowledging The Poisoner's pending entrance. His face was inexpressive as he jerked his head to the portion of the wall that harbors a Wall-Switch controlled entry point to an adjoining room. Air slid past Arlomhe's teeth as she resignedly stepped toward the vertigo inducing switch. She knew that wouldn't be the reason she was thankful for an empty stomach. Her back stayed against the wall even after it slid around in one rotation.

Arlomhe's jaw clenched tightly as the footsteps grew louder and then halted.

"Duel me," Tshilaba demanded.

"Duel you?" She heard him laugh and it wasn't a good-natured chuckle either. "I have the god cards at my command. You wouldn't stand a chance as a moth in a hurricane."

"Are you fearful?" she had taunted. Arlomhe almost felt the overconfidence, it was that evident in the Poisoner's voice. "You afraid that I'll wipe the floor with you?"

"You think me capable of fear?" Arlomhe paled as The R.H.'s voice dropped. "Only a fool would think that." She heard him rise and pace… absently, she wondered if he had started to circle his recently hired employee. "I fear no one. Especially not the likes of you, Poisoner."

Not even she was confident she could stay composed in this sort of situation. Though challenging The R.H. was not something to be taken lightly. Even her voice would shake. But from the day that she arrived, Arlomhe had found Tshilaba to be as unshakable as stone…or at least able to show a frighteningly convincing façade.

"That's nice, but you still haven't accepted my demands." Arlomhe heard a deck box open and the soft sound of cards sliding under fingers.

Arlomhe was a giant ball of nerves. He's entertaining the idea. It's rare that The R.H. breaks a recruit by way of a duel, and it's certainly not the wisest opportunity to give him. But breaking is inevitable, at some point it happens. "Very well. As there isn't a table here, however, you will have to follow me to a more suitable location."

Arlomhe waited until the sound of two sets of footsteps faded before activating the other Wall-Switch in the room that led to the upper corridors. Once in that hallway, she fumbled for her keys before unlocking the door to her left. It's a rather long staircase, and she would probably arrive after things had gotten underway but it was the safest way of avoiding capture or obvious intrusion. There was a Wall-Switch to the right of the second doorway that holds a small room much like the one conjoined to the atrium. If there was a Switch that granted access to the room missing its eastern wall, it was not nearly as pronounced or obvious. She stepped into that room and immediately wished that the wall wasn't so thin. She kept the keys gripped tight in her fists.

"I already see your defeat. I have everything I need. You have two turns to make me reconsider, Dear Tshiliaba."

"You wouldn't do that. I'm much too valuable to suffer defeat so quickly." Arlomhe watched through the line in the wall as The Poisoner extended her hand across the table, and brushed her fingers against his bronzed skin.

"Mmm, much too valuable," he had agreed.

Arlomhe slammed her fist into the wall and felt her stomach twist into a knot. The wall was hollow and the strike echoed. She froze as The R.H.'s gaze narrowed on the wall. Seemed to narrow on her.

"Dear Tshilaba, I need a ten minute reprieve."

"Oh come on! Why?"

"Do not. Question me. Your very employment is at my whims… you have nowhere else to go, is that a risk you truly wish to take?" His voice flows like silk. "Besides, I need to consider a way to shall we say delay your defeat. So get out. I will invite you back in when I see fit."

"Why should I accommodate your lack of planning?"

"I never do things spontaneously. You of all people should know that by now." Arlomhe trembles; the comment is directed at her as well. Tshilaba leaves with a dismissive wave of her hand. His steps come closer, each one sounding like the death-knell of a bell. "Sharti."

Arlomhe shook, gripped by absolute fear as the wall slid aside. A one way switch? She had never considered that. Yet she should have expected it. The R.H. was the master of his system. His title of Wall-Switch Lover was not one to be taken lightly. She stared at her feet.

She stiffened as he gripped her wrist and squeezed, forcing her to surrender her keys which dropped into his waiting left hand. "I never expected this from you." He rubbed his thumb along the palm side of her wrist, pressing hard against the blood vessels. "You know I don't take lightly to trespassers." Releasing her wrist, The R. H. waits until the wall slides back into place without a second switch's activation; one of the few timed exposure sections within the complex. "Do you have an explanation, Sharti?" His inquiry was soft, the furious sort of soft that he forced on himself to retain any trace of control. He pockets her keys.

Her thoughts were racing. She was sure she'd had multiple reasons, but now not a single one was recallable. Her head moved side to side indicating a 'no.'

"If you aren't out of this room and making your way up those stairs by the time I count to five, you'll wish you had a reason at the ready." He pressed the switch. "One-"

"Wait….How does that switch work exactly?" She knew she was trying to stall, trying to curb his ire in addition to his own counting five.

The R. H. leaves the door open and produces a stone key, similar to one needed to wind up a variety of music boxes, from his right pocket. "Seeing as you'll not set foot in the lower corridors until I send someone for you… I suppose I can humor the question."

Arlomhe stiffened and the color swept from her face. This did not bode well.

He continued, ignoring the sudden stillness. "The Wall-Switch is manually controlled. Depending on the speed I use the key, the entrance stays visible for an according length of time. It is all about tension. Which is what you're causing now." He tossed the key to the floor and the sound of contact echoed in the small room. "Two."

He inhaled to count three but Arlomhe was already sprinting up the stairs, ignoring the fact that she was definitely going to regret it the moment her legs started screaming in pain after the adrenaline subsided. She slammed the door and slid to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. Her heart twisted as she heard the door lock behind her.

If The R.H. was sending someone to retrieve her… that was a treatment reserved for those with no rank. She trembled and shakily stood, using the wall to support her as she made her way to the room that held the tapestry to wait for the rank stripping.

_**End Flashback**_

She brushes her fingers along what meager threads remain of the cloth strips that formerly held her satin rank markers. They were shorn off completely. She can still feel the two mirroring bruises from where the flat of the long knife was pressed hard against her shoulders for two minutes on each side. She again reminds herself she should be grateful The R.H. made sure Tshilaba drew the knife away from her neck as the ranks were cut.

She startles at the sound of footsteps. "When you said you were stripped of your rank, it didn't seem this extreme. Thought that The R.H. merely took them from you."

"Bryn, that's technically demotion… at least then you have a chance to earn them back." Arlomhe looks at the dueling table, carved with indentions for each of the card zones.

He sets a tray on the table. "That would be why I have never been in charge of recruits. I don't know half of the terms." He exhales, looking at the stripe of shorn thread perpendicular to the shoulder seam. "You ought to take that to the tailor… make it look less thread-y." She watches as Bryn takes the seat across from her.

"It was awful!" She's shaking and on the verge of tears, fighting her memory of utter humiliation. "And there are gaps in what I remember meriting said stripping of rank that I can't explain…it doesn't feel right."

"Of course it doesn't feel right; you earned each and every one of those ranks. He can't ju-"

"He can and he did." Arlomhe plants her elbows on the table. "Never cared much for the visible benefits of my rank really."

"Something else is bothering you."

"Remember the incident in the interview room that ended with me grabbing the collar of your shirt?"

"It's hard to forget, I thought you were going to pummel me, which would have been very out of the norm for you."

"You remember the content of my outburst, yes? What I let slip?"

"That's what you meant when you said you don't have his protection."

"The rank was always precaution. Those who've been here for a while still treat me like nothing changed. They don't know about that detail per se but… respect and comradery are earned rather than awarded and it's not exactly inherent…and thankfully go a long way." Arlomhe briefly eyes the mugs. "They help me stay away from the new recruits who gain rank quickly…they stick up for me." Again her glance strays to the two mugs, but she notes only one carafe. "Bryn, you never ever drink tea."

"I know that. The other mug is for you too. I took the liberty of sneaking some ice cream in while Raji was occupied. Vanilla goes really great with that honey bread she makes."

"That's honeyed bread. And you know she'll dump the rest of that ice cream if she sees it."

"You think she dumps it? That's the funniest thing I've heard all day!" Bryn laughs heartily. "The lady of the kitchen has quite the sweet tooth, and vanilla ice cream doesn't last a day. If it's there, she'll eat it."

"I could use something sweet." She takes the ice cream topped mug and Bryn offers her a spoon. "The honeyed bread is about this close to being cake anyway." There's a sliver of space between her finger and thumb as a comparative gesture. She pushes a generous spoonful into her mouth. "This is delicious." She finishes it in short order. "How's the file coming on the swashbuckler who sank _The Death Trap_?"

"Oh, The R.H. will remember the day he almost caught Benjamin Navin fo a long, long while… Can't find much but scraps on the man. Rumor has it he's skilled at Duel Monsters but not much else beyond that information is available."

"Thanks for trying. Like I said earlier, sort of hoping we never catch him." The sun peeks into the room. "When do you leave?" Her fingers are wrapped around the handle. It's a shame the visit was so short.

"As soon as you let go of that cup. I'll even make you a cup of tea as you like it and take it to your post before I leave."

"Your sister is lucky. Ever had your eye on somebody special? You could finally settle down like you always said you would. You can tell me, I promise I won't tease you about it. Much." She laughs as they both make their way to the communications room, Bryn leading then down a path that rendered the Wall-Switch closer to the atrium unnecessary.

"If I tell you, you're gonna just tell me to ask. That's what you always do!"

"Well Brynny, you've got me down to a T." She laughs. "And you probably should ask."

Far too quickly they arrive at the communications room. Arlomhe sinks into the chair, exhausted. "I swear we ran the perimeter of the complex."

"Did it feel like rounds?"

"Not really…" Arlomhe drawls and watches Bryn break into a grin courtesy of the mirror.

"Ha. I can still make chores not seem like chores."

"I guess you can."

"Shame I can't get you to vouch for me."

"If you don't start going on your way, I'll have to vouch for you… in my current predicament, that wouldn't be the best option."

"Oh right. Seeing as your rank-less at the moment."

"I prefer 'sans-rank' if you please." Arlomhe takes the file and swallow the bile that rises to her throat at the partial mention of Tshilaba's favored moniker for her. "This file sure is full for so little information on Navin."

"Oh most of that shows details of his other escapades… not exactly the first time he's played swashbuckling stealer of ships. And he is operating on his own… however I did find an incident that's the same _Modus Operandi _but clearly looks planned by a group and carried out by a squad." Arlomhe rolls her eyes at Bryn's gratuitous use of Latin when the abbreviation would have sufficed. "I included it to be on the safe side, as The R.H. is dreadfully sour about this whole mess."

"Sour is an understatement." Arlomhe deadpans. "Oh look right on cue, an estimated time of arrival." She scans the paper read out. "Oh good; two hours to brace myself."

"That's my cue to vamoose, kid."

"Alright Brynny. I think it's lovely that you have loosened up a hair." She watches him shrug and leave without another word.

* * *

**DH: **Again, I'm gonna say that part of this was supposed to be straightforward. Ie. The reason Arlomhe was stripped of her rank was maybe not catching the tryst as much as her habit of snooping. But I then thought nope, there's gotta be a piece I'm missing here. And I sort of have a super evil awful, and admittedly ballsy idea, that should be easy enough to execute, but there's always the chance it's gonna blow up in my face.

And I really need to finish up the first part of that ficcy that I'm coauthoring with the lovely **Ataahua** so I don't feel nearly as bad about throwing references to that unpublished fic in here, as brief as they are.

Please review. They are wonderful!


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